Follow my journey from Greece to Sweden and my quest for happiness, starting August 23rd 2014.

Tuesday, November 1, 2016

All dogs go to heaven

The rain was slowly falling down on my head as I was walking back home from work. I was in the final stretch at huvudsta, in that beautiful straight long road that is full of winter leaves and yellow colors now. I just wanted to go sleep and escape from the real world once more. Why? As I said fellow babies, I cannot seem to catch a break. But it's going to be alright. If anything, never give up, never surrender.

I was afraid to sleep. The other day after I dropped Nikoleta, who is a friend that just arrived in Stockholm and the poor thing gets stressed so easily, I went to have a beer with Amanda. The moment I was about to get out of the subway a girl around her 27's fell down on the last step of the stairway and her leg broke in an awkward angle. It was horrific. I held her hand while she was crying and left when the paramedics came. The clash of bone and sinew sent shivering chills down my spine.

Be well in doggie heaven...

Wicky died yesterday. Wicky was the most gentle, beautiful Belgian Shepherd dog of all time. She had bone cancer and she went to dog heaven. I learned about it when I was at work and I cried in the subway, I cried in the apartment too. Every time she saw me, she would drag her old 10 year old body towards me, lie down on the floor, lift her back leg up and wait for me to scratch her belly. Every time I was in the kitchen, she would come sit next to me and look with those patient beautiful eyes that sucked you inside to have a piece of cheese. And some other times, she would climb on top of me and hug me like a human being. I would hug her back and love her with everything I had. Goodbye Wicky.

Other than that my dreams are weird as usual. Nightmares or just plain weird. I do not understand them, but I have ceased trying to. I remember an abandoned train stop that was being constructed and me walking with two friends, Yiannis and Kostas. We met a kid and his father who also happened to be Greek. His name was Andreas.

The dream shifted to my car being slowly losing pieces. In the end only the skeleton was left. I went into a Greek place to buy souvlaki and ended up fighting with someone. I shouted so hard he went under the table. I bought a Coke for 50 cents. Bargain I tell you.

Today I ended up speaking to Lionel Messi and being in a massive conference with my cyborg suit. I remember dogs and sadness. In the end I helped a fat guy in an abandoned endless slope and we teleported away. Turns out some guys from Poland wanted to know more about me and my suit. Apparently in my dream I can speak perfect polish too. I woke up. Alone. The rain still hammers the house like a sledgehammer and I am inside, tucked inside my blanket, writing these words, waiting for the next best thing.